A Life Before Battle
by Qween of the Damned
Summary: Young prince Tirian finds court life isn't always as pleasant as horse-riding, as many trials, friendships and mishaps happen in the beginning of the end of Narnia.
1. Of Ambassadors and a Call to War

**Chapter ****One: ****Ambassadors ****And ****A ****Call ****To ****Arms**

(In which Narnia received Ambassadors from Archenland, and the North grows restless.)

_The great acts of war require to be undertaken by noblemen. –Victor Hugo_

* * *

There was one place in the Cair that Tirian wanted to be in: the Stables. In fact he wanted to be on his horse, riding about in the meadows outside the city walls, with nothing but the wind and the thumping of Liam's hoofs for company.

Unfortunately, it was not where he was. He was standing in the Corridor of Tapestries, beneath the huge drapery depicting High King Peter kneeling before the mighty Aslan as he was knighted into the Order of the Lion. Tirian glared at the tapestry, wondering if when the high king was his age, did he forget where he was supposed to be? Because Tirian could not remember if he was supposed to be in the court with his father, or in the hall, greeting the guests with his mother. They had both been telling him all week about the three Ambassadors of Archenland who were coming, bringing with them their spouses and children, who would be living in King Erlian's own palace of Cair Paravel. The families, Tirian thought gloomily, would be taking up space in the palace, and forcing him to be on his best behaviour at all times.

Tirian wondered what Ambassadors would look like, but all he could picture were the colourful merchants from the harbour. They were the only humans he could remember seeing. "Father should have some of _them_ join the court," he smiled, as he spoke to the King Peter kneeling before Alsan.

"My prince! Where have you been? Your mother has been searching for you!" The ancient voice of Dorian, Tirian's tutor spoke from behind him. "You are, at times, my prince, more trouble than your seven years are worth. You are to be in the hall, first welcoming the guests, then to join the king your father in court, there are lessons to be learned there, as you are to be king some day. You do recall that, do you not?" A small smile at the boy, then a hand on his shoulder. "Prince, truly, you must hurry." But even though Master Dorian urged him to hurry, Tirian walked only as fast as his Master, and that wasn't fast at all.

* * *

When at last they arrived at the great hall of the Cair, Master Dorian was saying how they'd most like missed all the guests already. Tirian merely smiled, thinking about when his next horse-riding lesson was, and whether his father would be there to watch again.

"Son! Where've you been, little prince? You had me worried!" Queen Rose kissed his dusty blonde hair, and straitened his clothes as she spoke. "You ought not to run off where no one can find you, son. You've missed meeting most of our guests, but Duke Ayden and Duchess Brianna have yet to come. Their caravan has been delayed, but they've been sighted outside the city. Before you ask, son, the others have retired to their chambers, to freshen up afore the feast. Oh! By the Lions Mane, I can't recall if I have told Cook not to add cinnamon to any dishes—one of our guests has a dreadful allergy to it." Rose looked at her young son, contemplating sending him to the kitchen to be certain, thought better of it, and called to one of her ladies in waiting. The young faun, Nymira, who ran off was a younger sister to the General Girbius II, and often a playmate of Tirian's.

When Nymira returned, Queen Rose was still giving Tirian orders, and requesting her maids and guards last minute things. The Great Hall was alive with true Narnian spirit—brightly colours tapestries decorated the walls, but did nothing to diminish the clear sun that shone through opened windows, and the gentle breeze that filtered down was filled with scents and sounds of summer. The tall dryads, the fauns, the she-wolf and the dwarves going about their business made Rose remember how much everyone was looking forward to the Summer Solstice Feast tonight. It was always a Narnian affair—no banquet tables, no cutlery, no worries—held outside in one of the Cair's gardens, the feast would be spread out on the lawn, and everyone was invited. The wine would flow, the music would play, and the dance and the feast would go on. Often, morning came too soon, and there were still fauns playing on, naiads, dryads, hamadryads, sprites and pixies dancing on the grass, barefoot and joyful, and dwarves still drinking, telling jokes that she would like to keep from Tirian's ears for another few years.

Rose smiled inwardly when she realized that the Archenlanders who had arrived and were still arriving did not know this. Feasts, in Archenland, did not include what a true Narnian feast included. Rose was not saying that she did not enjoy their feasts, but they were more dignified affairs, like many feasts held in the Cair throughout the rest of the year. Tables, cutlery, and manners were involved. It would be interesting to see how they would react. No doubt in grace and dignity, and with all the right words…

The herald, an aging owl hooted and called out in a strong voice:

"Presenting his lordship, Duke of Archenland, friend of Narnia, Ayden, his lady-wife, Brianna, their son, Camlin, and their daughter, Deidre."

Queen Rose smiled, and kissed Lord Ayden on both cheeks, embraced lady Brianna, and murmured the appropriate things to Camlin and Deidre. The two children possibly only a year or two older than Tirian, but presumed to act more maturely. The three could not be more different. Camlin and Deidre smiled and said polite things, but the first words out of Tirian's mouth naturally were: "Do you ride?" and after that, Deidre looked at him in a condescending manner that Tirian missed, while Camlin seemed to pretend at being busy examining his sword hilt. Rose wondered, as she spoke to the lord and lady, what these two might have against riding.

"I must beg, majesty, for your leave to be off to our chambers. We've had a trying journey, with news of giants leaving their realms and coming into Narnia. My mind will be at ease after a bath. Although you might think me a touch too lady like, seeing as how you could likely go travelling and without a bath for weeks!" Brianna smiled beautifully, her eyes lighting up and a dimple showing. Rose returned a smile that was less beautiful and more polite, knowing that Brianna's words, although said complimentarily, was not meant in such a way. Rose saw it for what it was: a snub on her low birth. It was likely that she was being scrutinized for flaws that showed how she was only a queen because king Erlian had fallen in love with the wrong woman.

_Perhaps __I__'__m __jumping __to __conclusions, _Rose thought. But the Queen knew that Erlian's wife-to-be had been some relative of the House of Aiken, and every single time she was in noble-born company, the ladies seemed to delight in stating how she could probably go for weeks without washing/ride abreast instead of side-saddle/fight alongside the men in a war/do something that ladies with titles generally didn't do. Rose lived for the stories of the old times, the legends of Queen Lucy, who rode into battle with her brothers, Queen Aravis who crossed the desert with King Cor and would fight alongside him if necessary, of so many other brave, noble, wonderful Narnian women who had always done unladylike things in the most ladylike manner possible, and managed to make a room full of lady Brianna's ego bristle with envy.

Rose motioned to Zyrphilla, a beech tree dryad guard, stationed at one of the many doors leaving the great hall, and a she-wolf who was already close to the Queen. "Lana, you and Zyrphilla show our guests to their rooms. Be sure they have everything they need. Have hot water brought up for them to bathe. My thanks, ladies," Rose said, smiling warmly. She knew that simply sending one of her Ladies would suffice, and Lana and Zyrphilla's presence, as guards could be seen as a slight, but she didn't care. That woman could be slighted if she wished. Rose knew she'd hear of it from Erlian later, but at the moment, it felt good. It felt most un-queenly, and most Rose-the-milking-girl-esque.

When the guests were gone, with their own people carrying their trunks after them, there was a moment of silence in the hall.

"I don't think I like them, mother," Tirian said loudly.

"Young prince, it is not couth of you to say this of your guests," Master Dorian said, reminding everyone of his presence.

"Yes, but Master Dorian, when a lad speaks truth, who are we to hush him?" Rose said sadly, but then she smiled, and Tirian was no longer worried. He hugged his mother, grinning at his tutor, and began to talk about the feast. After all, there were two other families to meet yet. There was bound to be someone who loved riding.

By the time Tirian had been introduced to everyone, court with his father was over, the feast was just beginning, and it was past midnight. Tirian had decided he liked the new servants more than the nobles who came in their pomp and glory. He had said as much to Camlin when the boy told Tirian he did not think horses were very nice, or very hygienic (which caused some irritation from a Mare within earshot, but that's another story). But that was not the issue at hand.

"But I'm not tired!" he protested, yawning as his mother laughingly dragged him out of the courtyard where the feast was being held. Fauns and Satyrs played their instruments yet, and would continue 'til the night turned grey and the sun began to rise. But the young prince had to sleep, for not even he—especially not he—was allowed to miss seven o'clock sword practice. Perhaps she could talk Girbius into allowing the prince another hour of sleep.

"Mother, honestly, I'm not!"

"Oh, yes you are, my sweet!" Pulling his doublet and shirt off, she tickled him, and he collapsed on the bed, shrieking, still saying how he wasn't tired, not one bit.

"My lady queen?"

"Zyrphilla!" More surprised than anything that the dryad guard would be up in the tower levels, Rose sat up, worry taking over.

"His majesty the king wishes an audience with you, queen."

Rose looked questioningly at the guard, but Zyrphilla's eyes were in the shadow, and Rose did not think she would be able to tell what the dryad was hiding, even if they weren't. Erlian knew she was taking Tirian to bed. Why not come himself? Unless... "I will be with you shortly." She looked at her son, lying on the bed, and she could see the question in his eyes. "Love, my sweet, I need to go. Your father needs to talk to me. No, hush, you must be sleeping already, you may not come with me. You'll see him tomorrow, but now you must sleep." She stood, turning to Nymira and Lana who had accompanied her from the feast. "Stay with the prince, ladies, and I shall call you if I need you this night." Morning, she reminded herself. Kissing Tirian on the forehead, she motioned for Zyrphilla to walk with her.

"He's leaving?" she asked once the oak doors were shut behind them.

"My queen, it is not my place—"

"To say, I know." Rose sighed, and brushed her dark locks from her face. Tirian had Erlian's gold hair and sea coloured eyes. He would be a great king, she knew it, even though some malicious courtiers could find ways to belittle him because of her lack of nobility.

"My lady, I will leave you here," Zyrphilla was saying; they had arrived at the king's chambers. Rose pushed open one of the doors, and closed it again behind her, shutting out Zyrphilla, Tirian, and the Cair.

"Erlian," she said softly, to his hunched figure that sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. "You're leaving?"

He didn't answer for a long time, and when he spoke, it was simply to say "Come here," and hold his one hand out to her, not even looking at her. She took his hand in hers, and knelt beside him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She murmured, brushing his hair back, touching his face, and realizing it was wet with tears. "Erlian, speak to my, my love," Rose said, and kissed his cheek gently. He was a strong man, and to see him so distressed her more than she let show. She knew him, and she knew that only the gravest of wrongs and the greatest of sorrows—his people's sorrows—could leave him looking so vulnerable. Erlian was a passionate king, who loved Narnia with all his heart. Rose knew he did little for himself, and all he could for his land.

"Rose," he said.

"I'm here, my love," she stared into his eyes, as if looking at him could make him tell her everything that was troubling him. "Tell me why you're crying, Erlian."

"Giants, Rose, they've finally crossed into Narnian lands. Rumours were confirmed. The ambassadors were not the only ones to arrive today. Hrag and his unit returned from the north. The reports they bring back are grim. Small towns and villages are plundered and put to the torch, the women raped, the men murdered, oh, Rose," he said, holding her close, already sorry for what he'd said, knowing he should have spared her some details...

"Erlian."

"I leave in two days time with four score soldiers. It's all we can spare at this time. We're too far spread, too many attacks and raids are happening at once. If more soldiers were still here, I could take more, but I will not leave the castle undefended. Perhaps we can negotiate with the giants. If not, if all we can do is push the giants back to their own territory, then perhaps we'll have some peace."

"Erlian."

"I will not stand by as my people are tormented by these monsters! I cannot! I swore an oath to protect the people of Narnia, and how am I doing it? I sit in my castle, and feast, and welcome guests, make small talk and do nothing of consequence. Oh, how I miss the days when battle was all we did, we breathed, we spoke, for we lived battle. Now, I sit in a stone chair, and give commands, and send worthy men and beasts, friends of mine, to die in my stead. I have reached three and thirty years, yet it seems I am an ancient king, ruling from a throne and too afraid to leave his keep. I ride with my men in two days time. I ride with them to retrieve the dead and beat these monsters back to their evil borders!"

"Erlian—"

"I will not be spoken out of it, woman!" he shouted, pushing her hands aside, and standing to his full height. "I will not!"

"Erlian!" It was only Rose who would dare raise her voice to the king. She stayed at his feet, looking up at him, but her voice was strong as she spoke. "You do protect your people. You swore an oath to do so, and I fail to see how you have neglected that task. Aslan appointed you this, and you have been faithful in your stewardship. You are a worthy leader, a noble king, and a loving husband and father. Yes, perhaps you must go to war against the giants, but forget not, that even back unto High King Peter and his siblings' reign, there were the northern giants to be fought. They pillage and plunder, murder and burn, and it seems there are always more of them than we can handle! But you do not despair—you must not despair! For you are king, and when hope leaves the king, it truly leaves the land." She held his hands, breathing heavily, her pale green silk gown crumpled beneath her. Rose blinked, thinking of the things that must torment him so to make him leave so soon. Erlian sat beside her, reminded of the fact that he had not seen her worked up like this since when she had told him she was with child. Rose was a gentle and soft woman most of the time. When she raised her voice, it was because there was nothing else that would work.

"I love you," she said, "And you will do what you must as king, knowing I support you. But you will not despair."

Erlian kissed his wife then, as he had on their wedding night and so many nights after.


	2. Of Giants and Small Thrones

**Chapter Two: Thinking of You**

(In which the king rides North to treat with a new evil.)

_The moral law causes the people to be in complete accord with their ruler, so that they will follow him regardless of their lives, undismayed by any danger. __-Sun Tzu, The Art of War_

_In the dark is a place I love—it's a place that allows me to embrace all that society and her flaws force me to release. __-Anonymous_

* * *

Erlian swayed to the beat of his horse, and listened to the sound of the dwarf drums beat the march. Water dripped off his helm, and when he turned to look back, he could barely see the last men in the line.

His thoughts were on what lay ahead of the dismal weather. The Ettins had been harassing the Narnian border for months now, but never so serious as to kill a large group of humans. The slaughter that had been described to him by Hrag was not natural. For some reason, after all the battle's he had fought, this one screamed that there was something wrong. Something else was going on. This was why he had to go personally. This sort of this had not happened since High King Peter had beaten them back in the Golden Age. Now he, Erlian, first of that name, son of Erol, knight under Aslan, was to face the evil breed of Giants. Erlian could think of places he would rather be.

But his duty lay here, on the road with his men, riding north with 100 strong, to make sure the Giants were held back. He knew that the ill rain, the mist and wet bedrolls made everyone in the small army wish they were somewhere else, and the fact that they rode beside him pleased Erlian. He was grateful for their company, their strength, and their loyalty to Aslan, Narnia, and their king.

His mind wandered from his soldiers to the Ettins again. Latest news brought back word of a band of traveller who had been attacked. There was more wrong with that picture, as well, he thought. The band had been too far north to simply be enjoying the Narnian summer. Nor would they go that far to trade goods, so they could not be peddlers or such and no Narnian in their right minds would go into Ettin territory, but perhaps they had not been in their right minds, so…

"Majesty, the scouts say there is shelter ahead. Tree cover, in an advantageous place. If weather permitted, we might travel longer, to higher ground and more cover, but the sun sets soon, and this is the best we will find before darkness covers us."

"Thank you, friend. These are blessed words to hear right now," Erlian said, holding his arm up so that Freedom, an Eagle Scout (and great friend to the king) could alight. "How is everyone?"

"They are weary, majesty, but their loyalty runs deep, and they will plough through their weariness to end the evil done in the north." Freedom looked back. "I can scarce see the end of the line."

"Well, that is proof indeed that your age is indeed beginning to show, friend. Perhaps this should be your last campaign after all?" Neither said what was already known: any of the good beats and men riding here could never return.

"Never, King Erlian. I will die on the field of battle."

"Freedom, you have a family."

"And they will remember my name if I die honourably."

Erlian sighed, and kept silent, knowing that the Eagles had strong views about death and glory. If _his_ liege had given him the chance to grow old with Rose and Tirian, he would have taken it gladly. Freedom was a good friend, though, and for it all, Erlian was glad he would fight by his side. Even the Giants knew the dangers of an Eagle on the battlefield.

Still, this felt wrong. It was the feeling that came to him in his bones, the feeling that a campaign was about to go terribly wrong. Erlian had felt it once before, and learned never to ignore it. He had felt it the eve of the Battle of Shuddering Wood, the battle in which his father had died.

Coming back to the present, Erlian dismounted—they had arrived. He watched around him for a moment as men and beasts alike worked together to accomplish a common goal: warmth and shelter. He frowned for a heartbeat as he thought of the ambassadors from Archenland. They were not what he had hoped for. Now he sat with a few families who were used to the ease of royal life in their own country, and expected Narnia to be the same. Life in Narnia was not hard, no, on the contrary. It was just that everything, _everything_ was so different to Archenland's traditions, and Erlian had seen that clearly at the feast. The guests were obviously uncomfortable, but while most tried to integrate, the lord Ayden and his family openly looked disgusted when they were served by Animals. It was the racism Erlian could not stand. Of course, his growing up amongst Narnians helped him be more knowledgeable, but to be so out rightly rude was not fitting anyone, especially a lord and lady.

"My lord?" The centaur Kale spoke from beside the king. "All is well?"

"Ah. Yes, friend. All is well."

"You are worried my lord. Not only about the coming battle."

"Yes, ever knowing centaur, you are right. I am worried about many things. It is the curse of being a king."

"Ha! It is the curse of being a thinking creature, majesty. Not only kings have much to worry about." The centaur smiled, and turned away to help a group of dwarves set up the tents. Erlian grinned, and moved to help his people.

Dawn of the thirteenth day saw them at the border of the Ettinsmoor.

There were grey clouds in the sky, obscuring the sun, but thankfully, it wasn't raining. There was a faint fog gathering, and Erlian's gut twisted at the thought of fighting in it. Even if their opponents were large, fog made for messy battles. There was a war recorded where the most of the deaths were caused by blinded fellow soldiers. It wasn't safe. But they were here now, and perhaps it would not come to blood. Perhaps they could treat with the giants.

Erlian rode forth from his small army on his white stallion, towards the Giant's Causeway. The massive stones that littered the way got cautious glances from all the Narnians—it would not be the first time in history that a giant was mistaken for a stone.

"Ettins! Giants of the North! I am Erlian, king of Narnia! I wish to treat with you!" The giants had not had a king for fifty years now, since their civil war that had been the cause for earthquakes in the surrounding lands. The king had been beheaded and devoured, which was unusual for the Ettins. They were not known cannibals.

A boulder moved, and the Narnians tensed, but the boulder itself was not a giant, merely a giant's hiding place.

"You wish to treat with the Leader?" it asked.

"Yes," Erlian called, taking in the appearance of the Ettin before him. The long brown hair was matted and dirty, dreading, mostly, and the clothes that covered the creature were in tatters. But for all this, it was female. Yes, quite definitely female.

The Ettin appeared to be taking him in as he was doing to her.

"Will you come alone?" she asked.

"I cannot. I would bring officers with me for council during the treat if I may. And I would bring at least five guards for our protection." It was risky giving such high demands, but he had no wish to enter the Ettin territory alone and an easy target.

"Ha, little king, you are daring," she said, and took a step close, crossing the border and stopping on Narnian soil.

"These are evil times, one cannot be too careful," he retorted.

"Evil for you, perhaps. We have never been more prosperous." She raised an index finger and beckoned. "Come, bring your little officers and wee soldiers, tiny king. Come now." She smiled, revealing rotten teeth and a dimple.

Erlian motioned to Kale and Freedom among others, and a group of seven rode and walked after the giant. Erlian's hand twitched on his horn—one long blow meant they were ambushed, two sharp blows meant the remaining army was to attack, and three blows meant all was lost here and to return and protect the castle. The horn was enchanted. The sound would carry.

Erlian hoped he would not have to touch the horn.

* * *

The first time Erlian had been to the Ettin Castle was with his father. They had come to speak of trade (the idea had not worked out in the end) between the countries, and Erlian had tagged along to see the largest number of giants ever.

Then, the great stone castle had been in ruins from the war, and most dealing was done in the open close to the giant's temple. The temple had been thirteen rectangular boulders, end up, in a circle, and a large square slab in the centre for sacrifices. The castle before him now, was not the ruins he remembered, but rather like the histories take on it from the adventures of Rilian the Disenchanted. The massive structure took his breath away—he barely came a fifth of the doors height while he was mounted.

Their guide opened the doors and they entered, finding the doors opened directly into the throne room, and feeling a silence settling over the occupants. There was a massive stone throne on the far side, and the giant who brought them headed towards it. They followed, Erlian taking in the number of giants (six), the amount of weapons they each carried (approximately three each, leaving space for a hidden dagger), and the places others could emerge from.

The tension from the Narnians was palpable. The only escape any of them could see, apart from the door, was a window high above the throne, and there was only one gryphon with them. Each one knew the king would damn his nobility and not leave until everyone else was safe. Which really made one gryphon useless.

They finally reached the throne, but it was empty of a giant.

At the right foot of the stone throne, there was a smaller throne—human sized, and thereon sat a man. When he rose, he was over six foot, with long dark hair, shot through with red. He was dressed like a respectable merchant, but with less colour. Sombre greys and browns seemed to be the man's taste. A fine sword hung at his hip, and Erlian could almost feel Falin, the dwarf with them, itching to see it.

Erlian looked into the man's eyes, and wished he hadn't. He knew the lore books told of soulless creatures from the deep parts of the earth, but Erlian had never truly considered their existence. The black eyes, with no whites or pupils that stared back at him worried the king.

It all was beginning to make sense.

The raids and murders and disappearances on the northern border was not the work of giants—and they were not the work of a being under the guide of Alsan. They were not things that happened in Narnia, and the king had never heard of such things happening in the surrounding lands either. Erlian held the other man's gaze as memories of the tortured, broken bodies of his people rose.

"King Erlian." The voice was cold, and a chill passed through the Narnians. Erlian's people were not easily cowed, but this was beyond what they were accustomed to.

"You have the advantage, my lord. You know me, yet I know you not." The king stepped forward, and gave a slight bow.

"I am Malik."

Erlian waited for more—for the man to speak of his wealth, lands and conquests, but Malik remained silent, regarding Erlian.

"Malik."

"Yes."

"You aide the Ettins."

"I do."

"The pillaging and death on my border are your doing then?"

"Yes."

Erlian raised his eyebrows, staring at the man. "Why?"

"They tried to stop us from doing what we intend to do."

"And what is that?"

"To conquer the land of Narnia. To carry on south, to Archenland, and on to Calormen. Then further south, to the lands beyond."

"What, you plan to rule the world?" Erlian clenched his jaw, and his hand twitched to his sword.

"Simply to conquer it, and leave it in an ashen ruin." Said in the cool voice of Malik, Erlian had never felt more confused. "What happens to the land after we leave does not bother me."

"So you do this for what? Pleasure?"

"My motives confuse you."

"Yes!"

"Majesty," Kale said softly, stepping beside him. "Tread carefully with this man."

Erlian breathed heavily through his nose, closing his eyes, then opening them, and looking around him, at the tall pillars, the high walls, the ceiling far above them. If he pleaded for this mad man to leave Narnia in peace, then what? Even if Narnia was spared, he would ride to aide Archenland, and even, he knew, Calormen, against this threat. And the chances, he knew, of Malik leaving Narnia be was slim at best. What could he offer? Gold to help fuel the evil campaign? Weapons to help kill innocent people? Land that Malik would take anyway? Erlian shut his eyes again, knowing that no matter what he gave, Malik would not take it, and would not leave Narnia alone. And Erlian knew, in any case, that no matter what Malik asked, it would not be given to him. But there were his people to consider. He had to try.

"We have come to treat."

* * *

_Author's note: I apologise so, so, so much for the ultra long wait for the chapter. I hope to have the next up sooner, but a lot has been happening in my life since March, and things haven't really been looking up yet. I hope, though, that you enjoyed the chapter—I enjoyed writing it. Please, questions, comments...you know what to do!_


	3. Of Rat, rats, and Camlin

**Chapter Three: Of Rat and Rats**

(In which many rats are introduced.)

_Enslave a man and you destroy his ambition, his enterprise, his capacity. In the constitution of human nature, the desire of bettering one's condition is the mainspring of effort. The first touch of slavery snaps this spring. –Horace Mann_

* * *

Tirian met Rat in the third week after his father had ridden out. He had met plenty of Rats before, and enough rats, too, but he had never met _Rat_ before.

"They call me Rat because they say I smell, but I think that rats don't smell at all, so I don't see why they should call me Rat, but it's all they ever call me, and it's hopeless trying to get them to call me something else, because, after all, they are my masters."

Tirian found that Rat talked a lot, and immediately took a liking to him. Or her, as the prince soon found out.

"I'm really a girl, but lady Deirdre and lord Camlin don't know that. Only Lady Brianna does. They just use me to light the fire and bring bath water and empty their chamber pots, see? They don't really care about their slaves, and they've no interest in me whatsoever, unless I forget something, then it's all yelling and screaming and beating me."

"They beat you!" The prince was outraged. Not once, not twice, but three times, could he remember when his father had told him never to beat someone unable to protect themselves. And one was never cruel to your subjects; it was a pathetic thing to be. "Why don't you tell their parents?" Tirian didn't approve of snitching, but Rat was obviously shorter, skinnier, and dressed in threadbare clothes. No one in Narnia wore such sad clothes, and the children were always happy and plump. Rat didn't look like she (he now knew) could stand up to Camlin, but there had to be something she could do!

"Tell the masters' parents? No, can't." She plucked the sleeve of her tunic, and looked away from him.

"Why ever not?" Tirian frowned, and looked at the coal bucket she had been carrying. She had been on her way to Camlin's room, when she'd seen him in the halls, and stopped to ask for directions, her being lost. He'd pointed to the stairs, told her to go up one flight, and the fourth door on the left side would be Camlin's. Then, Tirian had asked her (thinking, at the time, it was a boy he could perhaps ride with) her name.

"They would hurt my family. They took me, see, when I was littler, and gave my pa three brass ones for my service. Ma didn't want me to be taken, but I'm a girl, and… I don't know why they take the girls more than the boys. But they come to our villages, and they take us." Rat shrugged her shoulders, as if it didn't even matter.

"But they can't hurt your family!"

"Can so. Lady Brianna told me she'd kill them before mine eyes if I ever complained again. I told her once about the little lord and lady beating me. But you won't tell, will you, prince?" She grabbed his hands and knelt before him. "Please don't tell, because I don't want any harm to some to my ma and pa."

"I," said Tirian, looking down at her. He knelt next to her, quiet for a while, before he lifted her chin to face him. "I promise I won't. Prince's honour, I won't tell anyone." He could understand. He didn't want any harm to come to his parents either, and he knew he would do anything to help them. Even be civil to Camlin and Deirdre after all this.

"Prince Tirian." It was a cold voice from above them on the stairs. Rat scrambled up, and grabbed the bucket, running to Camlin's room by use of Tirian's directions.

Tirian turned slowly, and it took him a moment to remember the name of the lady who had by now walked closer, and towered over him. She reminded him of the stories of the White Witch that master Dorian used to tell him.

"Lady Brianna," he whispered.

"What did the girl tell you?"

He considered not answering, but there were no guards on this level this morning, and he was, though loathe admitting it, slightly afraid of what the lady would do to him. She did not look happy.

"Nothing, lady, I just came upon her here, and—"

"Do you know much of our customs, little prince?"

She had a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't run away now.

"It's not so much Archenlandian custom as it is…a personal thing. It runs in lord Ayden's family and mine own, as well as a few other noble families. Some of the newer members like to keep it hushed up though." She knelt next to him, her pale green dress pooling on the floor and bringing them eye to eye, holding him there.

"When Ayden was a little boy, his parents kept a girl like that, so that when he grew up, he would not be so completely useless on his wedding night. For me, my parents kept a boy. So you see where the Rat's life is headed, little prince? Perhaps your mother should get you a rat." Tirian thought of replying, but decided against it. He watched the lady as she stood. "Stick your nose where it isn't wanted in this world, prince, and it'll get cut off."

Then she was gone.

Tirian stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what on _earth_ she had meant, decided that she very well might be crazy, and went off in search of Nymera.

* * *

The prince was riding his mare Jera, when he next saw Rat. She had sought him out three days after the incident of their meeting, and found him in the coral. She stood, entranced by the horse, until he rode up and asked, not hoping for much, if she would like to ride.

Thus began Tirian and Rat's riding lessons. Rat was rather good, and Tirian prided himself on this, although their lessons were short and far apart, between Rat's duties as a slave, and Tirian's as a prince. But soon, a friendship developed, mainly around their love of horses. The few Talking Horses who came to the stables occasionally (not to be riden, of course), were pleased by the children's interest in the dumb beasts. The told them all they could, and of course, Tirian learned more from them than he did from his riding instructor.

"You think we'd ever see a unicorn?" Rat asked, as they lay in the middle of a field one afternoon, in the late afternoon sun.

"Dunno," said Tirian, frowning at the clouds. "Why?"

"I bet it can gallop faster than a horse is all."

"Mm. Maybe."

They were silent for a while, and then Rat stood, and smiled down at Tirian. "Race you to the Cair?"

He laughed and got up, and they ran down the hill behind the castle.

Tirian carried the small bundle carefully, as if it were holy. He went down the narrow winding steps slowly, and finally reached Rat's door. He had been here once before, and had been upset with the meagre mat that was all she had. Now, in his bundle, he had a surprise for her.

She opened on the second knock, and looked sleepily out at him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's so late."

"I snuck away from the lords in waiting. I brought you something."

"A present for me?" Her eyes were wide, and Tirian grinned.

"Yes." He handed her the bundle. "I wrapped it in the blanket. It's one of mine, but I have so many in the wardrobe, so you can have it, mother won't notice, and neither will anyone else." He followed her into the room and squatted next to her while she undid his knots and opened it up.

"A candle?"

"You can have light in here then. You only have a little tiny window."

"And this? Boots?"

"The boots are my size, so they might be a little too big for you. And those are socks. You can ride in that then."

"Thank you. And you got me soap."

"I hate washing, so you can have my soap. You said the other day you had none and you were dirty."

Rat squinted at him, and shook her head. "And this?" she asked, taking out a smaller bundle. Tirian looked chuffed.

"Clothes. I bargained for them with Brenda, one of the dwarf seamstresses. She gave it to me for four beautiful stones I found on the shore."

"Oh, thank you, Tirian." Rat smiled at him, but noticed he was frowning slightly. "What?"

"You know, it's very confusing calling you and a Rat answers."

"Sorry." She looked down. "Lady Brianna said my mother used to call me Farah."

"Farah."

"Mm."

"Alright. I have to go." Tirian stood, and looked back before he left the room. "Goodnight, Farah."

* * *

Tirian was in his bed, fast asleep when the door creaked open, and Camlin entered, holding the jug. The elder boy smirked as he stood over the prince's bed, and then dumped the contents onto him.

"AH!" Tirian woke with a shriek, to see Camlin laughing. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded, hair dripping, and beginning to peel off the sodden bedclothes.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. Let's go." He tossed a cloak and pair of boots onto Tirian's bed, and stalked to the door.

"What are you on about?" Tirian muttered, getting off the bed and finding clothes to wear. "And how did you get passed the guards? And my gentlemen in waiting?"

"Ha, easily enough. I simply told them I wanted to take you on a midnight adventure, and they could come along, or follow if they wished. I also told them how I intended to wake you, and one of the Hounds thought it absolutely hilarious."

"_What_ are you on about?" Tirian demanded, standing half clothed in the middle of the room. "You ignore me at the best of times, and now you behave as if we've been friends all along? As if you have a right to wake me so!" The prince scowled moodily at Camlin, who raised a brow, and ran a hand though his fair hair.

"Alright, if you'd rather not come—"

"I never said that!"

"I merely thought—"

"Oh shut up, I'm coming." Tirian pulled on his tunic, and the cloak and boots. "Should I bring something?"

"No, don't bother."

"Hm. Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Camlin said, and walked out of the door. Tirian followed him down the corridor, and down several flights of stairs, through a hall, past the kitchens, and out a side door. "Come on," Camlin said impatiently when Tirian paused to wonder where his guard really was. Normally they followed, and occasionally one of the Cats were appointed to him, following stealthily, to give him the illusion of being alone. He knew he never was, but this time, he was uncertain.

"Where are we going?" he asked again, but Camlin didn't reply, simply kept walking, and heading to the south of the castle, to the woods. Tirian wasn't afraid—he knew many of the dryads—many of them were his mother's ladies or guards. So he followed, frowning.

They reached the edge of the forest, and Camlin stopped abruptly. Tirian, who had been walking close behind, finding it hard to find his footing in the dark, tripped, and bumped into him. Camlin swore loudly, using language that Tirian had only ever heard Otters and one old dwarf use.

"We're here."

"Where?"

"Here, you idiot," Camlin sighed, and began moving a log. "Help me."

They shifted the log out of the way, and Tirian gasped at the hole that it revealed. Camlin lifted a torch that had been wedged in the dark, and took out his tinder and flint, striking a flame.

Blinking in the sudden light, Tirian asked, "Where does it lead?"

"I don't know. That's why we're here."

"Wouldn't it be better to do this in the day? Perhaps we should wait..."

"Scared?"

"No!"

"Then come," Camlin said, and clambered into the hole, holding the torch.

The tunnel was wide and high inside, and stretched on in both directions further than either boy could see.

"Which way?" Tirian asked.

"Pick one."

"Um, left."

Camlin turned to the right hand one. "Let's go."

"That's right."

"I know," he replied, and Tirian had to hurry to not get left in the dark. The little prince didn't notice the silent shadow of a Cat that slipped into the hole behind him.

* * *

_Author's Note: Otters swear according to RthStewart's stories. If you haven't read them, go take a peek—her Narnia, while slightly different from Lewis', is no less vibrant and alive._

_Let's hope that Camlin and Tirian get along after this. _


	4. Of Letter, Plots, and Spies

**Chapter Four: Lies, Letters, and Loneliness**

(In which lies are told and revealed, letters are received, and the queen is faced with a lonely ruling.)

_Treat your friend as if he might become an enemy. –Publius Syrus_

* * *

The first letter arrived by a Swallow named Lillipad on the dawn of the fifteenth day since Erlian had ridden out.

The message the Queen read was brief.

_From: Erlian, King of Narnia_

_We treat with them. They have a human (?) leader. We are being housed and fed fairly, all troops. _

_My love to Tirian. I miss you both. _

It was brief, and not very informative, and the Queen was glaring at the paper, as if willing it to reveal more, when Tirian burst into her room, covered in mud and leaves.

"Mother!" he shrieked, and hugged her. "You'll never guess what Camlin and I have found!"

"Tirian, it's barely past dawn and look at you!" She grimaced, and attempted to pull the leaves out of his hair. "You're never up and this awake when you're supposed to be!"

"I've been up all night," he said proudly. She raised her eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Yes," he said, and began telling her about his adventure. It ended with Camlin and Tirian having found a tunnel that led into one of the empty rooms in the base of the castle, and making a pact there. "So now, we're friends. And he'll ride with me today."

"You were up all night." His mother stated. Tirian looked at her, and gave a weak smile.

"You never said I _couldn__'__t_, mother," he said.

"I never said you _could_ either," she said, and then burst out laughing, and tickling him. "You naughty thing! I trust one of your guard was with you, though."

"As always, your majesty," a sleek voice said from the open doorway.

"Oh! Sihan," Rose said, smiling. "You were with them?"

"The whole time," the Panther said, and seated himself next to the Queen's door.

"Thank you," Rose said, but Tirian was frowning.

"I never saw you." He looked at the Cat. "Were you sneaking?"

"Sneaking is what I do, your highness."

"I'm Tirian," the Prince said, climbing off the bed and going over to the Beast. He kissed Sihan's nose, and hugged the Cat. "Thank you for staying with us. I didn't know you were even there."

Rose covered her mouth, trying to hold in her laughter—the Panther looked half like he wanted to bite Tirian for the hug, and more than half confused with the boy.

* * *

She was in the Court Room, speaking to the faun Didymus, who was cofferer, and was to see that the traders and merchants who were arriving soon, were housed and seen to fairly. Rose turned, smiling from him, and walked straight into Lady Brianna.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she began, before stopping and realizing who it was. "My Lady. I'm sorry."

"Of course you are," Brianna said, smiling that flawless smile. "You seem to have a lot on your mind, your majesty. And a lot to do, as well. Perhaps you need help."

Rose paused for a moment, gazing at the other woman, who was almost a head taller than her. Did Brianna mean she wanted to help? Or was she mocking Rose's inability to run the kingdom in the King's absence?

"Thank you, Lady," Rose said carefully, "But I think that the courtiers here are capable enough. I'm certain my husband left instructions for the Ambassadors, though. Perhaps if you and your husband have rested well over the past few weeks, and are ready to begin work, you'll wish to speak to the chamberlain?" Rose motioned to Nymira, who was closest. "Nymira, dear, will you go and find Hillary? He should be in the library." The faun nodded and ran off.

Rose looked at Brianna's face. There was a flicker of something there, but then it was gone, and the smile was back. Brianna turned and walked off. Rose sighed and flopped into one of the benches reserved for the members of the court established by King Edmund the Just.

"My Lady," Zyrphilla spoke from her post at the door, "Perhaps you should rest. You've been about since dawn, and the castle can function for a while without supervision."

"It's just these...corsets," the Queen scowled, "They stop you from breathing, and thinking, and you end up insulting your guests. Don't ever wear them," she added moodily.

"I don't think I will, my queen..." the dryad said warily. "Will you rest?"

"Yes. I think I'll take a walk in the west gardens."

* * *

The west gardens overlooked the sea, and had none of the high walls that had been built up by King Caspian X around the other gardens in the Cair. When the King had rebuilt what the usurper Miraz had destroyed so long ago, he had not know exactly what went where, and the books containing the original architectural drawings for the castle had only been found years after it was rebuilt.

Rose loved the two places in the castle most: the library, and the west gardens. The gardens, because it was the only place you could see beyond the castle walls, apart from the towers, and the library, for its rich and descriptive history of Narnia. Over the years, all Narnians had put as much as they could to restoring the known history of the country. Rose loved reading about the (mis-)adventures of previous monarchs, and their brave crusades, and their dark romances. Certainly, some tales painted a picture that was more fiction than fact, but Rose enjoyed it nonetheless.

She was now seated in the arbour, reading. The book was one she hadn't read before, and every few pages, there was an inked illustration. It was a story about someone named Tarkeena Hajar, who had been an explorer not too many years past. The illustrations were supposedly done by her, during her travels. Rose closed her eyes and wondered what it was like carrying a roll of parchment and a whole lot of ink around with you while you were travelling.

"Mother." Tirian stood before her, a perplexed look on his face. "When is father coming home?"

Rose was silent for a moment, then motioned for him to come closer, and she pulled him onto her lap. "My darling," she whispered into his curls. "My precious darling."

Tirian turned in her arms to face her, and cupped her chin. "You're sad," he said.

"Hmm," she sighed.

"Why?"

"Because, precious one."

"Was it me?"

Rose gasped. "No! Of course not!"

"So you're not upset about this morning?"

Rose smiled down at him. "No, I'm not. I trust Sihan will go with you—but you must never leave the castle alone, alright?"

"Very well."

They were silent a moment.

"But when _is_ father coming home?"

Rose sighed. "I received a letter today. He sends his love. But they still treat."

"I would kill every last giant if I were there!"

"Tirian!" Rose said, shocked. The boy was usually reluctant to even kill a bug.

"I would!" he said, and pushed himself off her lap. "I would!" he turned away.

"Tirian..." Rose said, standing, and moving next to him, but he brushed her off, and ran down the path. Rose opened her mouth to call after him, but then thought better of it, and sat back down with a sigh.

"Majesty," Sihan said from her left. She started.

"I didn't see you there," she murmured.

"I know, my Queen." The Cat was silent for a while. "Your son wishes to be like his new friend. For all his noble courage, he is an impressionable boy, and Camlin is a smart trickster, even if he might do so unintentionally. He knows how to get what he wants, and befriending the Prince is not a bad way to rise in the court."

Rose raised her brows at him, and a sad smile tweaked her lips. "You know more about devious nobles than even I do," she said.

"I observe."

"I should start." Rose frowned. "But Camlin is still only ten or so. Surely he wouldn't do this by himself."

"Majesty, a usurping ruler of Narnia once underestimated children. History teaches those who will learn. We must not repeat the mistakes of the past." He was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "Still, I have asked the Rats to keep their ears open. And their eyes."

"Thank you, Sihan," she said, and sighed. "Am I paranoid about the ambassadors?"

"You're cautious. You're right to be so," the Cat replied. "I must go now. The Prince requires my watching." Rose nodded, feeling slightly bad for soliciting the panther's help to watch her son. But still, the child needed it. Didn't he?

Rose got up, and decided to reply to Erlian's letter. In hopes, of course, that he would reply, too. In full, this time.


	5. Weaknesses, Strengths, and the Inbetween

**Chapter Five: Weakness, Strength, and What Lies Between**

(In which many weaknesses are revealed, as are the Ambassadors of Archenland.)

Weakness, _noun: _/wēknis/ the characteristics that cause people to give themselves to others; areas where they are vulnerable.

_In charity to all mankind, bearing no malice of ill-will to any human being, and even compassionating those who hold in bondage their fellow men, not knowing what they do. –John Quincy Adams_

* * *

Camlin stared warily at the horse, but masked it well with a look of annoyance. They had, on all previous occasions, done things suggested by Camlin. Now, Tirian was not taking no for an answer, and the young lord felt almost obliged to please the prince.

"I didn't know you'd expect me to ride with you so soon," he said. He watched as Tirian mounted with ease, and as the Faun instructor moved to help him, he brushed passed him, and copied Tirian's mounting.

"Why don't you ride?" Tirian asked.

"Because," Camlin said, as the horses began following. He didn't expand on his single word answer, and Tirian dropped it. The Faun Venus played a soft tune on his reed pipe, and the horses followed him around the meadow. Several other horses grazed contentedly as the boys rode in silence.

Their silence was, of course, broken by a shriek coming from the direction of the Cair.

Tirian and Camlin both turned, along with Venus, to see Lady Brianna running towards them, in a most unladylike fashion. Tirian glanced at Camlin, whose face was an impasse.

"Is something wrong with her?" he asked, carefully going over his other meetings with the lady.

"More than I care to explain," Camlin muttered, and dismounted as his mother reached them, face red, and eyes redder—from crying.

"How _dare_ you!" she said breathlessly, shaking her son. "They told me where you were! How dare you!" she slapped him across his cheek, and Tirian looked on in horror.

"Lady!" he cried out, "What is the meaning of this—"

"Be silent, you little upstart," Brianna hissed, and Venus stepped towards her, but she merely grabbed her son by the shoulder, and dragged him back towards the castle.

"Your majesty—" Venus began.

"Please, don't tell my mother. She'll only worry."

Venus was silent. He gazed intently at the little prince, who, at times, behaved far more maturely than his years. Venus had been the prince's horse-master for a little under two years now, and since it was one of the few things Tirian _wanted_ to do, Venus got to know the boy more than some of his instructors.

Tirian had an unwavering love for anything that lived—an insatiable and addictive kind of light—that was how some of the Narnians described him. He adored his parents, and would do anything to make them proud—and to protect them. Venus supposed he learned from their ways, and not only from what they told him. It was easy to see the king protected the queen valiantly, and that Tirian did the same.

But the way the prince asked his favour of Venus now, disconcerted the faun. Tirian had many secrets, he knew, but there was always some-beast who knew the secret also. And something like this, Venus was certain to have heard about.

"Prince," he said, taking the reins of the horse Camlin had ridden, and motioning for Tirian's horse to follow. He began walking slowly back in the direction they had come. "Perhaps you should tell your mother of whatever is troubling you."

"Nothing's troubling me!"

"Very well."

"Camlin is my friend. I would be breaking an oath if I told anyone."

"Do I not count?" Venus asked with a small smile.

"I haven't told you yet," Tirian replied, grinning.

* * *

Tirian sat with Farah that evening after history lessons and before supper, on the steps leading down into the west gardens. It was empty save for the few dryads who had moved their trees into the garden. And, of course Sihan, lying behind them, seemingly sleeping.

Tirian handed Farah an apple he had gotten from the cook, and she bit into it thoughtfully.

"Well, Camlin has never gotten smacked by the Lady before," she said around a mouthful. "I have. She smacks hard."

"She has no right to go around hitting people."

"He's her son and I'm her property," Farah said matter-of-factly.

"It isn't right to own people."

"Huh."

"Well, it isn't!"

"That isn't stopping her and others!"

"Then I'll stop them!"

"And how do you think you'll be doing that?"

"I'll—I'll..." Tirian trailed off.

"Thought so," Farah smirked.

"Oh, shut up."

They were silent, eating their apples for a while. The sun was setting, and the gardens were bathed in a rosy light. A few bright Narnian stars began their dance across the sky. The moon had not yet risen. The smell of the sea wafted up to them.

"I'll tell father."

"What'll you tell the king?" Farah looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"Tell him you're being slaved."

"You'll do no such thing, Tirian!" she was on her feet now, staring down at him, fear and anger in her eyes. "You'll so not do it! Promise you won't! If your father doesn't believe you, because the Lady is a lady, then I'll be whipped, and thank you, but I do not like that!"

"Fine, I promise!"

"Swear it on your life!"

"I do! I swear on my life I shan't tell my father!"

Sihan opened one eye to stare at the children, as Farah said goodbye stoically, and walked off, and Tirian sat in silence. Sihan would have smiled. The boy would fit perfectly into palace life.

"My prince?" he said, rising.

"I never promised not to tell mother," Tirian said defensively. "And mother will believe me. Lady Brianna must be stopped." Even if that meant tricking one of his true friends.

* * *

Sihan and the prince made their way to Rose's quarters after supper—it had been a silent affair with the ambassadors. Tirian smiled at Zyrphilla as she opened the door, and he went in, motioning for Sihan to stay outside.

"A moment, friend," he whispered before entering. He looked to see his mother sitting at the desk in her night clothes, candle burning low, writing furiously.

"Mother?"

"Hmm. Just a moment," she said, writing still. Tirian exhaled through his nose, trying to think what he would say.

Rose set her quill down, and turned. Her face was serious, but she smiled slightly for him. "Yes my darling?" She pulled him by his hand to the bed and they sat.

"Mother, I have something serious to tell you," Tirian began. "But first will you tell me—what are the laws about slavery in Narnia?"

"Oh, child, you're growing up so fast..." Rose sighed, and hugged him close. "Your eighth birthday will be soon." She sighed again, and let him go, to look him in the eye. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because..." he said. "Because?"

Rose laughed a little, and closed her eyes. "It's illegal—that means no one is allowed to do it. You see, everyone is equal in Narnia, no one is better than someone else—not even the Royal We. We are as the littlest Hummingbird and Squirrel. But sometimes, people outside of Narnia believe that they are better than others—Beast or Human or Creature of the Wood. They capture others; they force them to do things they don't want to." Rose stopped.

"Why can't the slaves fight back?"

"Many times they do. But the problem is that if you tell someone so often and for so long that they are below you, they start to believe it. And this weakens their resolve. And sometimes, when slaves fight back, their masters will just...kill them."

"That's terrible," Tirian said, shuddering.

"We here in the Cair have servants. There's a difference. The people who serve us here—they are given a wage, and many receive housing, if they so wish to stay here. They are free to leave if they so wish. They are given something slaves do not have, yet all Free Creatures deserve."

"What's that?"

"Choice. Choice, Tirian, is what freedom is about. It's what can make or break someone. Choice to do right, wrong, or anything else. Choice to serve, to rule, to love, to hate." Rose looked down at her son and smiled sadly.

"Mother."

"Hmm?"

"Do you care for Lady Brianna?"

"What—oh Tirian..."

"She has slaves. They pose as servants."

"Tirian, this is not something to be joked about—"

"I spoke to Farah and she was taken when she was still little—she's my age now—but her parents couldn't keep her and now Lady Brianna is doing something to groom her for Camlin. I do not know what that means—"

"She's _grooming_ a child?"

Tirian froze. He was unsure what all of it meant, but his mother's tone had dropped, and he could see the fury in her eyes.

"Mother I'm sorry—"

"Zyrphilla!" The dryad was in the room almost before Rose finished calling. Sihan was next to her.

"My lady?"

"I want the Rats and Crows to be called. We will have a meeting. Sihan, please, take Tirian to his rooms. Have Jono stay with him, and then you return to me."

Zyrphilla nodded solemnly and left, Sihan herding Tirian out behind her, and guiding the protesting prince to his quarters.

Rose breathed heavily, trying to sort through her thoughts. Tirian was not accustomed to telling lies, and realized the severity of disgracing someone's character—this was a warranted investigation, she was willing to bet her crown on it. Rose held no love for Brianna, particularly, given their history, but she did not wish for the woman to be disgraced in a matter such as this that would reach the ears of Narnians and Archenlanders who believed in free-living. She wished Erlian were here—he would not have reacted so abruptly before Tirian, and showed so much of her feelings of slavery, and he would know exactly what to tell the Rats and Crows. The Narnian Intelligence was something Rose took to well soon after her marriage to the king, but though she had a knack for it, she doubted herself now.

Could she handle something of this enormity were Tirian telling the truth?

She found herself thinking, in her heart of hearts, that she wished her son was a liar to create this mess.

* * *

Aggie was small, even by Rat standards. She sat on her haunches, looking up into Queen Rose's eyes, and listening intently. The only reason she was the Rats' leader was because she was, by everyone's standards, quite a bit sharper than her fellow Beasts.

"I'm sorry to call you so suddenly, my friends. I sincerely hope you were not otherwise occupied."

"It was no bother, your majesty," Kieran the Crow said from her perch on the windowsill. They were up in the Weeping Tower, for it was quiet here tonight and therefore, a good place to meet. Besides, it was here that the Queen kept her stash of shiny objects and extra food for when she needed the help of the small spies.

Not to be out done, Aggie added, "And I was already here, so it was perfect that you wanted to meet."

Rose decided not to ask why the Rat had been in the library, and simply nodded her thanks to them both. "I don't really know how to explain this to you," she said. "You know that slavery is cruel and wrong, and therefore illegal in Narnia, correct? Yes, well, it would appear that some of our guest are not aware of these laws."

"But your majesty, I watched the King write up all the letters for them, the laws of the land were well put into the messages," Aggie said.

"I should think he put the laws in," said Kieran said, with slight sarcasm to the Rat, "He's supposed to do that sort of thing, you know."

"Yes, well, we should find out whether they actually paid attention or not, and if they know they're in direct violation of the laws," Rose muttered.

"Easy, we cut off their toes to make them tell the truth. Humans are very attached to their toes."

"Aggie, humans are rather attached to _all_ their body parts," Kieran retorted.

"Hmm, yes, but still, your idea isn't half unappealing," Rose said. "But we can't resort to that. Yet. For now we'll settle with spying on them. Now, tell me what you have learned about them since they've been in the castle."

At once, both Rat and Crow squeaked and cawed indignantly.

"We've not been told to spy—"

"So we never!"

Rose raised an eyebrow, and looked at them carefully. "Liars," she smirked, and opened a drawer in the desk next to her. Out came a gold button and a lump of bacon from breakfast.

There was silence from the small Beasts.

"Well," Aggie finally said, "Perhaps...perhaps if you're not too upset that we were spying when you never told us to..."

"I'm not upset," Rose assured them.

"We even conferred and worked together on this one," Kieran said, eyeing the button, and inching her way closer.

"My dear friends, I've never been more proud of you for disobeying orders. Here," Rose said, handing them their prizes, "Now, tell me."

"Mmph," Aggie said, "Watched the Halion family, but the man and woman are rather, mmph, boring."

Kieran was clutching the button in one claw and biting it, testing it. "Together they're boring," she said, looking up, "But alone, lots of interesting things happen. See, we watch you humans, and see what's acceptable behaviour—"

"And now we know what's not acceptable in public, but you do it anyway. Kind of like the Otters..."

"Hah, nothings more worse than those Otters, I say," Kieran said.

"Never said, mmph, that humans are worse, just they're _like_ the Otters sometimes," Aggie said, glaring at the Crow. "Of course, I'm convinced you've got Otter blood, Crow."

"_Crraw!_ Have not, you gutter-trash! You look more like them, anyway!"

"Ladies!" Rose reprimanded, covering her mouth to hide her smile, "Please, just tell me what you know about the Ambassadors!"

"Mmph, Halion man goes around talking to himself, woman speaks nonsense all the time, to other women in court."

"But the woman sends letters—lots of letters by annoying pigeon—"

"Yes, she sends letters to someone in the Lone Islands."

"Oh hush, I wanted to tell that part!"

"Do you know what's in the letters?" Rose asked

"Of course not!"said Kieran and Aggie, automatically. When Rose sighed sadly, Aggie opened her tiny mouth again. "Well," she said, "I might have been up on the chandelier in her room when she was writing."

"You were?" Rose said. She silently cursed herself for not speaking to the Intelligence sooner, and getting them to see if the Ambassadors were authentic. King Ira of Archenland was still on friendly terms with Narnia, but not as much as kings before him had been.

Rose had ruined much of Archenland and Narnia's relationship.

She forced herself to leave her morbid thoughts and listened to what Aggie was saying. "I don't know so clearly how to read her twirly script that takes up half the page with pleasantries and how awful Narnian fashions are, but there was a bit of suspicion raised in me when I saw in one letter she sent a detailed plan of what the Royal Family does. Another letter had what guards were posted to you."

"You never thought to mention this?" Rose cried. Was the subterfuge deeper than they had anticipated? Rose had barely spoken to Lady Maria, but the woman seemed as unimposing as a good-natured Hare in the gardens. How had this slipped past them?

"I told her we best keep it to ourselves," Kieran said softly. Rose bit her lip at the sight of the mournful bird. "I did not intend harm, but as they are ambassadors, I assumed naught could be out of place—or the king would have known of it!" Kieran ruffled her feathers, and cawed. "I apologize, your highness, truly."

"Oh, friend, Kieran, no need to. You did nothing wrong. I apologize to you both for not being available for you to tell me these things," Rose said. _I __should __have __known_, she added to herself_.__I __should __have __investigated. __I __should __have __given __the __order __and __their __curiosity __would __have __led __them __to __this __sooner__—__and __perhaps __before __vital __information __was __sent __to __where ever __it __was __sent._ "Do we know where it was sent?"

"The birds are dumb beasts from Archenland, but we got Ula to speak to them, seeing as how they're related," Kieran said, perking up at being redeemed. "She said they just wanted to go home, home, home, the entire time, but the next one the lady sends, we can have someone follow!"

"Alright." Rose closed her eyes. "What of the others?"

"Duke Ayden has the habit of nesting with his servants in place of his wife," said Aggie. "I thought humans usually took mates for life?"

Rose looked away from the two Beasts and out the window, to where the moon had risen. She sighed. "By marriage, it's supposed to be just one mate," she murmured.

"Ah," said Kieran. "Well, the Duchess doesn't mate with _anyone_, if that helps. But she does keep a portrait of someone in her valise. Her duke was upset the night they arrived and he saw it was with. I suppose she was to have left it in Archenland."

"Does the person look at all familiar?" asked Rose, though she knew even before they shook their heads that it had been a silly question. "What else does she do?" She was still looking at the moon, and missed the glance the Rat and Crow shared at her suddenly hard tone.

"She can be awfully verbally abusive," Aggie supplied, "Like Otters."

"And hits some of her servants. Most days, just the littlest one." Kieran cawed, showing her disapproval. "It's not so right, beating on the little ones."

"What else," Rose whispered.

"Nothing else, your majesty," Aggie said, looking worriedly at the queen.

"What of House Illar?"

"Count Daemon and Countess Sera are by far the strangest, my lady, in that they are the absolute opposite of their fellow countrymen."

"Explain," Rose said, closing her eyes and massaging her temples.

"The count does the work that the king allotted to him, and the countess is the perfect lady, a sweet person to all she encounters. She even helps in the kitchens, and speaks with the Beasts with an ease that all other Archenlanders lack. Her children attend their lessons and mind their own business, not disturbing anyone. It's alarmingly uneventful, the life they lead," Kieran said.

"I prefer that as to what the rest are doing," Rose muttered. "Is that all?"

"Yes, my lady."

Rose was quiet, and eventually opened her eyes and stood. "Thank you, friends. A good night to you both. Please..." she paused, then looked at them each in turn. "Please continue your observances of the ambassadors."

She turned, and left the room, not for the first time, wondering if what she was doing was right. If what she _planned_ to do now, was right...


	6. Of Natures and Nine Months

**Chapter Six: Of Natures and Nine Months**

(In which Lady Brianna's true nature is stripped bare.)

_If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility. –Longfellow_

* * *

Brianna paced the floor anxiously. It was not uncommon for her to have breakfast with the queen—twice a week she and the other two ambassador's wives were obliged to breakfast with her. The thing that concerned Brianna was that it was to be just the two of them this morning. The other women had told her they were not invited. Brianna was already suspicious of Rose, but this morning, she was on edge. She sat down again, in a rustle of green satin, and licked her lips.

"Dilla!" the tall dark woman emerged from the en-suite. "Get my pearls. I will wear them to breakfast." Brianna glared at the woman. She was taller than Brianna, her head was shaved bare, and her clothes were a simple long tunic and sandals. Yet the woman had strength, and beauty that Brianna had never managed to posses.

It was no wonder Ayden took Dilla to his bed more often than his wife.

Brianna slapped the slave's hand away when she tried to fasten the pearls about her heck, and snatched the gems from her. "I'll do it, you idiot," she said, her voice thick. She breathed deeply, blinking furiously as she arranged the pearls. She stood, and Dilla opened the door. "Get the Rat to clean the room, and the fireplace. You see that Deidre is dressed, and take her to the music room." Brianna swept away.

She had a lonely breakfast with the queen to attend.

* * *

When Rose had first come to the castle eight years ago, as the soon to be queen of king Erlian, she had discovered a great many things about court life that she had never known.

The spy system of the monarchs was one of those things. It had been established so long ago that no one was certain which king or queen had originally started the Narnian Intelligence, and the history regarding it was vague, for a good reason: to keep secret that which they knew should remain so.

Now, as Rose sat on the South Tower balcony, waiting patiently for her breakfast guest, she knew that she was being watched more than usual. Apart from Sihan whom she had no doubt was lurking somewhere within earshot, having left Tirian in the dubious yet vigilant care of Jono, and Zyrphilla, who was openly present, as well as Lana, who lay in a patch of sunlight, Rose knew that several of the Murder and the Pack would be idly watching, listening, and betting who would come out of the confrontation alive.

Zyrphilla opened the oak doors and led the Lady Brianna through the Queen's rooms, and onto the balcony. Brianna took in the view and Rose at the same time, and smilingly sat down.

"I thank you for inviting me—"

"No, my lady, thank you for coming. I feared for a moment that you would allow our pasts to interfere with my wish for us to be friends."

Rose smiled a perfectly docile, queenly smile, and Brianna returned it. They were silent for a while, as Rose poured her guest some tea, and sat down again, nursing her own cup. Her eyes flicked over the other lady, who looked dazzling in a deep forest green dress and a set of pearls that looked valuable enough to buy a small kingdom. Rose wondered if the Crows were itching to touch it. Probably.

"It is a lamentable fact that we have not been able to converse more often due to both my duties as queen and yours as ambassador. It is indeed my wish that I come to know each guest in my household, and that your indefinite stay in Narnia is pleasant."

Brianna resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at Rose sarcastically.

Did the impetuous woman honestly think that their malicious history was to be so easily forgotten? It was because of the silly peasant-girl Rose that Brianna was married to the sod Ayden! If she had not interfered, if she had been a good Archenlandic peasant and refused the besotted and infatuated king's proposal, the Brianna's sister, Allegra, would have been queen, and Brianna would have married Erlian's cousin, Farlan, who had since been wounded in a skirmish on the northern borders, and remained in one of the houses of healing in the Lantern Wastes.

It had been an arranged marriage, that of her sister's, but the Narnian king had agreed because the relationship between the two countries was testy, and then with the abrupt marriage to a peasant woman, it had become more-so. Allegra had, thinking it was her fault for the political unrest, and thinking she was worthless, killed herself with a jewelled dagger.

Brianna had found her sister's body, bleeding all over their bedroom floor.

After that, their father had married her off to Duke Ayden, a man only a few years her senior, but with an ill-repute when it came to fidelity. She had her children in quick succession, before her husband bought Dilla and seemed to forget his duties as a husband. It was no secret in the Tyrell house that they hated each other now. Brianna quickly brushed away the thought that told her it had not always been so...

So, instead of sneering at Rose's attempt at civility, she smiled graciously, as she was taught to.

"Of, course, your highness." Brianna sipped her tea, and waited for the queen to start dishing so that she could. She was not hungry—she had a small appetite as it was—but she would eat, for the sake of etiquette.

They were silent again, and Rose helped herself to the food, and motioned that Brianna should do the same. After a few minutes of taut silent eating, Rose wiped her mouth on her napkin and set her fork down.

"Lady Brianna, I must be frank." Rose had never been one for lying, and she knew she would not be able to carry through with starting one now. "Are you and the Duke aware of Narnia's laws regarding slavery?"

The only thing that gave Brianna away was the way her eyes darkened. "Why, your highness?"

"I know you have at least three _slaves_ within your quarters here," Rose said.

"And how would you have come upon that information? Spying on your guests?" This time Brianna couldn't keep the malice from her voice.

"I am within my right as queen to ensure that your activities within the Narnian borders are without dishonest intent," Rose spat back. "And you have breached Narnian law. Each House, upon your acquiescence to become Archenlandian Ambassadors here in Narnia, was given a docket of all laws, regulations, and actions you would be responsible for. And yet you have slaves, here, in the very city and castle of Cair Paravel."

"Oh, yes, and aren't you the lovely queen simply fighting for justice!" There was a growl from Lana as she rose, and Sihan skulked out of the shadows. Brianna merely laughed, pointing to them, and said: "And you bring your fury pets to fight your battles, _peasant!_" Brianna spat the word out as if it were an oath. "You have brought my house nothing but pain! It's your fault my sister is in her grave—but no, you would never see it that way! I'm sure you think it was simply because she was too insecure and weak willed, that she killed herself. You, of course, went through so, so many trials and hardships, yet you continue to care for your family, even your sister who now lives here in Narnia." Brianna's derisive laugh ended as she continued. "Everything is your fault! And you wish to question why we keep slaves? My family has done so for generations! We buy and sell them because they're mere desert nomads. In my house, those stupid slaves have more hope of being noble than they do living in filth and squalor the way their parents have." Brianna was breathing heavily, glaring at the pale-faced Rose. The Lady's cheeks were flushed dark in comparison, and she put a hand to her chest, and sat back in her chair.

There was silence.

"I'm sorry," Rose said, eventually, "About your sister. But the slaves, Brianna...it's against the law."

"As should a peasant marrying a king be," retorted Brianna, as she stood and strode out of the room.

* * *

Rose sat at the table for a long time, unsure of what to do. Her past had raised its head and it was not a pretty sight.

Everything Brianna said was true: Rose had been a peasant, and had been living close to the Narnian border of Archenland with her two younger sisters, when the King and his garrison passed through: they had been chasing a group of hags and were-folk. They spent the night in the village's inn, and the next morning, would have set out, but one of the hags had attacked the village, and several people had been injured, and some even killed. Rose's one sister had been one of the fatalities.

It had been a tragic meeting, but the king had been kind to her, and had taken the offence by the hag almost as if he had been able to stop it. Through her grief, Rose had told him not to worry, but he had gone off with his men again, and this time they found the group, and they were dealt with accordingly.

Erlian had been wounded, and they returned to the village. Rose had nursed him and dressed his wounds. She had fallen for the man who had avenged her sister.

They had made love. And soon thereafter, he married her for her honour.

Their first child had died within months of the pregnancy, and a year later, Tirian was conceived. No one outside of their trusted guard and advisors and friends knew the truth of the marriage. And Rose knew he loved her, ever since that first time.

Oh, how she wanted his wisdom on this matter now.

* * *

Erlian looked into Lillipad's eyes earnestly, and slowly tied the letter to her leg.

"Fly swiftly, friend," he murmured. She gave a curt nod, and was off, fast disappearing into the distance. He watched her for a moment, before turning and heading in from the balcony. He hoped the Swallow was not intercepted—if she was, this letter, which was of vital importance, would not reach his wife in time, if ever. And he and his men would be in more dire straits than they currently were. His eyes trailed over his room for the millionth time, and out of habit, he checked the door. Still locked from the outside.

Erlian sighed, and hoped his plan would work. Lillipad was returning home, and very soon, he intended to have all of his brave soldiers on that path as well.

_Author's note: More to come on Erlian's bit next chapter—I promise it will be a long one. Also, was it just me, or does Rose seem a bit Mary-Sue-ish in this chapter (or all over)? Also, previous and this chapter's references to Rats and Crows as Narnia's Intelligence—courtesy of rthsteward's fics, used with permission. Her stories are incredible-go and check them out if you haven't yet!_


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